


Mona Lisa

by multifannish



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-04-24
Packaged: 2020-01-31 09:41:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18588661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/multifannish/pseuds/multifannish
Summary: DISCLAIMER: This is me having too much time on my hands and too active a fantasy. It's purely fictional and I do not want to imply that Brendon and Ryan had something going at one point or another. It's for them to confirm or deny what did or did not happen. This story does not reflect my view of their actual, real lives and I'm fully aware that me posting this story makes my stance of generally not shipping irl people hypocritical.I don't have an excuse for doing it regardless, I indulged in a fantasy and I know that others enjoy it, so I'm posting it for entertainment purposes.Less importantly, for the sake of this story Brendon and Ryan are the only ones ever to write lyrics - I didn't bother to check who actually wrote what, I just know the bit Ryan wrote that ended up in Nearly Witches for sure.





	Mona Lisa

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: This is me having too much time on my hands and too active a fantasy. It's purely fictional and I do not want to imply that Brendon and Ryan had something going at one point or another. It's for them to confirm or deny what did or did not happen. This story does not reflect my view of their actual, real lives and I'm fully aware that me posting this story makes my stance of generally not shipping irl people hypocritical. 
> 
> I don't have an excuse for doing it regardless, I indulged in a fantasy and I know that others enjoy it, so I'm posting it for entertainment purposes.
> 
>  
> 
> Less importantly, for the sake of this story Brendon and Ryan are the only ones ever to write lyrics - I didn't bother to check who actually wrote what, I just know the bit Ryan wrote that ended up in Nearly Witches for sure.

_Ever since we met_  
_I only shoot up with your perfume_  
_It’s the only thing_  
_That makes me feel as good as you do_  
_Ever since we met_  
_I’ve got just one regret to live through_  
_And that one regret is you_

 

Well, that was just painful. He could still remember exactly what the perfume in question smelled like. He’d stolen it so much, it became their perfume. He knew that, the bastard. 

 

_And I regret never letting you know!_

 

Letting him know _what?!_

Not enough, that he had to hear the words he’d written himself used in a song that even before being recorded had to have been so definitely painful to him specifically – it had to also include vague allusions to things left unsaid. Next to a nod to something that stood for them sharing everything, of all things. 

Brendon had never again used any other perfume once he’d smelled Ryan’s.

 

_Mona Lisa_  
_Pleased to please ya_

 

This was it. This wasn’t just a painful jab at someone you thought had wronged you, this was kicking someone who was already down. This was bloody, deadly revenge and it _hurt_.

Ryan’s hand that still held on to the god damned perfume bottle was shaking and he would’ve liked to chuck the thing across the room with enough force to shatter it – have it crash against the flowery record cover on the wall where it would fall to the floor in a thousand pieces, sharp and twinkling in the light like diamonds. He laughed, but there was no joy in it. So diamonds really were just like broken glass to him.

Damn it all to hell.

He set the perfume down gently, onto the desk that was filled with just about everything but what would usually be found on a desk. Even if destroying this thing gave him momentary satisfaction, which he doubted, it would make the whole room smell like it and that would be decidedly worse. 

Was there more on that record, he wondered, more that was obvious and painful to him only? Well, not him only per se – it had been Jon to send him the YouTube link to Nearly Witches after all, but he had looked through lyric drafts with him from time to time and they'd even done a demo of it including them at some point, so he recognized the lines Ryan had written ages ago – not the rest of it. The perfume bit, maybe. There had been more than enough jokes about their love for that specific scent, after all. But not the rest.

But now he wanted to know. He was angry, hurt and almost a bit scared of what he would find when he typed the words into the search bar. Vices & Virtues. Really now?

He was almost smiling, but the smile froze on his face when he stared at the song that popped up first. The Ballad of Mona Lisa. 

Tears welled up in his eyes, but they were more angry than anything else. He didn’t know what to do. A thick lump was suddenly lodged in his throat and he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to know, but he already knew he had to find out. He clenched his fists and ground his teeth together. Damn it, Brendon, he thought as the song began to chime away.

 

_Say what you mean_  
_Tell me I’m right_  
_And let the sun rain down on me_  
_Give me a sign_  
_I want to believe_

 

Well, he could imagine what that was about. Tell you you’re right, exactly, he thought. You damn asshole, Brendon. And to put that right after the clear reference to the girl, too. But he couldn’t help the warmth that spread through him, either. A sign, huh. Did he really want one? 

 

_Oh Mona Lisa_  
_You’re guaranteed to run this town_  
_Oh, Mona Lisa_  
_I’d pay to see you frown_

 

He was getting choked up the longer he listened. It sounded so cheerful despite the lyrics and the video seemed nonsensical to him, because he _knew_. He stared at the brown eyes looking into his from the screen and drew in a shaky breath. He would _not_ cry over this. 

And yet… it had been so long since he’d heart that voice, calling him by that name. 

Mona Lisa. 

Oh Brendon, you bastard.

 

_Mona Lisa, wear me out_  
_Pleased to please ya_  
_Mona Lisa, wear me out_

 

This is not how you please, Brendon. Not. At. All. 

And yet… he hated to admit that to all the emotions that had come rushing back to him when he’d listened to Nearly Witches, this song added a bittersweet nostalgia. He felt almost fond of it. He’d never had a full song written just for him before, despite the fact that Brendon just _had_ to bring the girl into it. Jesus Christ. The idiot.

Granted, it had taken Ryan long enough to realize just why exactly that had gotten Brendon so angry in the first place, but by the time he did, Brendon would no longer listen to him and, hurt and rejected, he had left. And yet he couldn’t help but think that this sounded like a plea. Or was he just hoping? Was he reading too much into it? 

He couldn’t tell for sure. He paused. 

_And let the sun rain down on me…_

It was almost a perfect opposite of the infamous lines from Northern Downpour.

_Hey moon, please forget to fall down, hey moon, don’t you go down…_

Sun versus moon, a plea for the sun to fall versus a plea for the moon not to. Day versus night, wanting the former to end versus wishing the latter never would. 

He couldn’t be imagining it all, could he? 

No, the fact that Mona Lisa showed up not only as a song title but again, in the other song that he could easily identify as personal, was decidedly too obvious for it to be unintentional. 

_Ever since we met…_

Ryan shook his head. The guy had literally smelled his perfume once and never worn any other scent ever again. He’d never even had his own, only ever taking Ryan’s. The only thing that made him feel as good as he did, was it now? 

Ryan grabbed his phone from somewhere in the pile on his desk and proceeded to push everything somewhere to the side to be able to set the laptop down somewhat securely. He should clean this up at some point, but right now he had some more pressing business to deal with. With a heart that was definitely beating a lot faster than necessary, he found the number he hadn’t had the heart to delete and let it ring. It beeped, and then a friendly robot voice reached his ear: _“The number you are trying to reach is no longer in service… to contact customer ser—”_

He hung up. Damn. He no longer had Spencer’s number, that one he had in fact deleted in an outburst of emotion at some point. And what do we learn from this, Ryan? he thought to himself with a sigh. Don’t be rash when you’re not yourself. Have a snack first.

Jon proved unhelpful as well, being only able to conclude that Spencer’s number had also turned into a dead end since he’d last used it. 

It wasn’t like they had no other mutual friends that might possibly be able to make some sort of connection happen again, but for some reason, Ryan got it into his head that personal confrontation would be much more helpful anyways, and especially if it happened as soon as possible. The tour dates were released, the tickets were selling fast, and if nothing else was going to work he was just going to go to one of the shows and find a way to confront Brendon after they were done.

Needless to say, approximately ten minutes after deciding not to rush into these things headfirst anymore, and instead to have a snack and think for a moment about what he was doing, Ryan was already breaking this rule again. He got himself a ticket to the nearest show, a way to get to the hall and then went back to what he had been doing before this whole affair had disrupted his day.

Also needless to say, as the concert approached he realized once again that it would do him well to for once think the things through that he got himself into. 

He got his hands on a dark shirt and pants in an effort to be looking as nondescript as humanly possible and hid his shaggy hair under a baseball cap. Nothing much he could do about his face, but after considering it for about 2 seconds, he decided that makeup was going to make him more likely to be spotted, so he left it. With a pounding heart, he reached the hall just as the doors opened. 

He kept his distance for a while, watching as the people poured into the building, before he approached the place himself and made sure to stay in the shadows in the back when he made it inside. As much as he would’ve liked to go up to the front and try to see if he could let himself be noticed ahead of time, he absolutely didn’t want to risk anyone else recognizing him. 

He had not yet figured out how exactly he wanted to go about his plan of actually getting within talking range, but blowing his cover ahead of time might ruin his chances for good. After all, what if Mona Lisa was meant to hurt him? What if he’d gotten it all horribly wrong and none of this was actually meant the way he hoped it was? 

Just as he felt all his doubts and anxieties begin to crawl all over his mind again, the lights went out and the support came out to play. He watched them try their best to get some approval from a crowd that was not here to see them and Ryan couldn’t help but pity them a little. He knew they were going to be getting some encouragement from the guys backstage, but having to play for a crowd that barely cared about them while they waited for the headliner was always bound to be somewhat discouraging. And yet, when they finished he did not dare to do more than clap politely along with the crowd, at this point feeling like any movement at all could be giving him away.

Maybe he should leave, he thought as the support, aided by the roadies, made quick work of carrying their instruments off the stage to set up for the main event. 

He watched them hurry to and fro, when suddenly a tall, blond man jogged on stage and motioned to the guy managing the sound further back. Ryan instantly recognized him – Theo had been with them on their last tour, and it didn’t surprise him that they’d gotten the same guys for this one. Theo especially was an exceptional Jack of all trades. No matter what needed fixing or help, he would be there and know exactly what to do every single time. Not to mention the fact that he was the nicest bloke one could find. 

Theo gave the sound guy a thumbs up and jogged away. Maybe he’d let Ryan come backstage afterwards… 

The lights went out, spotlights came on and the voices of screaming girls filled the hall. Nobody would give a damn about him now. He recognized the beginning of his ballad, The Ballad of Mona Lisa, and nervously glanced towards the exit. Should he really…?

Once again the screams swelled to a piercing volume. He looked up and there he was, white dress shirt under a dark vest and with a tie round his neck that looked messy like it always had. Brendon never had been able to tie a tie. 

 

There was something about having a song written about yourself, but Ryan had not been prepared for the wave of emotions that rushed over him as he heard it played live, and not being there to play along nonetheless. He blinked furiously. He would not cry.

On and on the setlist went, and Ryan forgot all about where he was, letting himself get sucked into the surreal feeling that only a live performance could cause. He closed his eyes and let it all wash over him. Here, in the shadows, far away from the spotlights, he was safe. 

It felt like barely fifteen minutes had passed when they left to let the audience do their obligatory chant – “We want more! We want more!”

And more they should receive, of course. Ryan slowly woke up from his concert stupor. Why was he here again? And what would he do after the show did truly end – everyone would stream towards the exits, right towards his little hiding place. He had not thought this through. Again. Maybe he could sneak out - hide in the toilets for a bit and come back after…

There came the screams again and the first chords of Northern Downpour had him freeze in place. He had not been prepared for that punch in the gut for sure. 

_Hey moon, please forget to fall down…_

Fine, he thought, clenching his fists so much his fingernails dug into his palms. I’m crying. You happy now?!

_Hey moon, don’t you go down…_

Hey moon, fuck you. Hey Brendon. Fuck you.

 

Ryan stood rigid while the song played, silently mouthing his lines while tears rolled down his cheeks. Why was this getting to him so much? He was just about to tell himself that it couldn’t get any worse when the song finally ended, but then Brendon said: “Hey. One last question before we really have to leave you for tonight: Any of you guys know French?”

Oh no.

The music played, and a choir of young, bright, happy voices filled the place up until there was nowhere to escape to anymore, not even his shadowy corner. 

 

_Dès le premier jour_  
_Ton parfum enivre, mon amour_  
_C'est dans ces instants_  
_J'aimerais être comme toi par moments_  
_Mais depuis ce jour_  
_Je n'ai qu'un seul, et unique regret..._

 

He couldn’t help but admit that it was a beautiful sound – the language, the melody, the choir – it all added up to something sounding so wonderful.

The whole set had felt so short, and now, this song felt like it went on for an eternity. When the time came, Brendon held the mic out for the crowd, and they shouted in unison.

_“And I regret never letting you know!”_

This once, Ryan joined them. He felt almost nauseous when the end came. And what else would have happened but what was to be expected? One last time, the choir rose. 

 

_Mona Lisa_  
_Pleased to please ya_  
_Mona Lisa_  
_Pleased to please ya…_

 

And then all of a sudden it was over, he heard a faint shout of “Good night!”, the stage was empty, lights came on and like a deer in headlights he saw the crowd slowly turn around and start streaming towards the exit. 

He kept his head low, glimpsing upwards only to see how much of the room had cleared. Just as enough people had left to allow him to maybe sneak his way right up to the stage, he saw Theo emerge to start wrapping everything up. He didn’t stop to think any longer, he just ran. Somehow making it past the people walking in the opposite direction, he reached the barrier that separated the stage from the crowd and yelled.

“Theo! Theo, down here!”

He waved his hand, praying that he would be quicker in attracting Theo’s attention than he would be recognized by anyone still in the hall. Theo looked up and his eyes widened. 

“Ryan!”

Ryan pressed his finger to his lips. 

“What are you doing here, man? I haven’t seen you since… when was that, 2009?”

“Yeah. Listen, can you let me go to the back? Please. I need… I need to talk to him. Them. I need to talk to them.”

Theo shot a quick glance over to the remaining audience, mostly leaving, some still lingering and trying to catch a glimpse of whatever backstage area there might be. Like that wasn’t too well shielded from views in just about any venue. 

“Go over to your left, that’s where the paramedics are. Tell them I said to let you through.”

 _“Thank you!”_ Ryan breathed and hurried over to the side. He noticed some hesitant looks from his peripheral vision, mixed in with one or two discreetly pointing fingers. 

“Hey guys,” he said once he’d reached the paramedics who were chatting away at the side of the stage. “Please, can you let me through to the back? I’m with Theo, he’s given me the okay.”

They looked at him suspiciously, then over to Theo who gave them a thumbs up and a nod, to which one of the guys unlatched a small hook and pulled the barrier open just enough for Ryan to slip through. “Thank you!” he said, nodding at them and then rushing on towards the back. He had never been in this place, but having played quite a few shows before, he roughly knew what he could expect to be where.

He glanced over his shoulder and saw a few faces stare after him. He didn’t stop long enough to see whether or not they’d recognized him. He kept going. There were voices, muffled but audible, and then a laugh. He froze. Yeah. He knew that laugh. Oh god, what was he _doing_?

Well. No way back now, and trying to hide in here somewhere wasn’t going to work out either. So, with his heart pounding like a jackhammer, he stepped out into the small back room. There was a worn couch, a table with drinks and some food – the view of which was mostly blocked by Spencer’s back – and right in the middle of the room, a towel round his bare shoulders and having stopped speaking mid-word – Brendon. He just stared at Ryan, incredulously blinking and looking like he was trying to say something but couldn’t quite get the words out.

“What now, cat got your tongue?” Spencer asked with a mouth full of food and turning around to see what had startled Brendon into silence. To be fair, it really was an achievement to have shut the guy up so effectively. Spencer, too, stopped dead in his tracks when he saw just what, or rather _who_ had caused the sudden stop in Brendon’s never-ending blabbering.

 _“Ryan!?”_ two voices blurted out in near-perfect unison about a second later. Ryan also had no idea what to say. He just looked from one face to another before raising his hand and waving somewhat helplessly. “Hey.”

“What the fuck are you doing here?!”

“How did you even get back here?”

“When did you –“

“ _Why_ the fuck are you – ?!”

They stumbled over their own and each others sentences until they both fell silent and, this time in perfect synch, opted for the easiest solution: “What the fuck?!”

“Yeah, that’s what I’d like to know,” Ryan said. He felt his heart flutter in his chest and had to really focus to stop his voice from shaking. “Care to explain, da Vinci?”

Brendon swallowed hard. “Look – Ryan, I – “

Spencer just looked from one to the other, confused, but evidently not too perplexed anymore because he had resumed chewing on whatever he was eating. 

“You _what_ , Brendon Urie? You what? You thought it would be fun to write a song in cipher? You didn’t think I’d hear it, or get it, or-or confront you about it?”

“No, Ryan – “

“You thought hurting me once wasn’t enough?”

“No, I – “

“Then _tell me!_ ” he tried his hardest not to shout, but his voice had gotten progressively louder nonetheless. He clenched his fists, feeling the painful indents his nails had left behind from the countless times he’d done that this night already. “Tell me why you’d write a song – a whole, entire goddamn song that you knew I would understand and be hurt by – if you didn’t want it to have any consequences.”

“Ryan.”

Brendon held out his hands pleadingly and Ryan pressed his teeth together and let him speak. Before he could get out a word however, Spencer cleared his throat awkwardly. “I’ll… I’ll go outside for a bit. I have a feeling I’m not involved here and you guys need some space.”

“Thank you, Spencer,” Ryan said, almost getting overwhelmed by how ready and willing Spencer was to give them room when he had to be dying to know what the hell was going on. He felt all the tension drain from his body, seeing Spencer grab his coat from a pile of stuff in a corner, give them both a nod that was probably meant to be reassuring and left them alone. Only the crew was rummaging about somewhere on stage now. He looked at Brendon, suddenly devoid of all the anger he’d felt just moments ago.

Brendon pointed to the couch. “Come on. Want a drink?”

“I could use some water, actually,” Ryan admitted and gratefully accepted the bottle Brendon threw him from the table before grabbing a clean shirt and pulling it over his head. Then he trotted over and sat next to Ryan, just far enough not to touch him.

“I knew you’d be upset, and I would lie if I didn’t want you to be at the time. But I wrote Nearly Witches almost two years ago, pretty much right after you took off. I couldn’t set my own head straight then, let alone someone else’s, but I was stubborn in pretending everything was fine, I had done no wrong and in my head, I just blamed it all on you. Not because you really were to blame, I just… if it was all on you, then it didn’t have to be on me. I didn’t want to be the reason any of it happened. I wanted it to be you so I could push you away, get over it all and carry on.”

“If that was all just then, why did you still keep it as it was?”

“It was honest,” Brendon said with a wry smile. “It was exactly how I felt. And despite my actual intentions, it reflected damn well that I was hurting myself, too.”

“The perfume bit?”

“Yeah.”

Brendon looked away, fiddling with the hem of his shirt and pulling at a loose thread. “When I wrote it, I wanted to take it away from you. I wanted to ruin that thing for you and keep it all to myself because it was something nice that we had, and I wanted it only for me. But really… it was just what I did instead of cry. I still kept it, you know. The bottle you left. I couldn’t give it up. I put it on everything, telling myself it was to make it mine, but… it was still yours. It kept you around long after you were gone, and at some point it was like the last piece I could still have of you.”

“Fine,” Ryan said, avoiding Brendon’s eyes. Only now did he notice the familiar smell, and it made him flustered and messed with his head, knowing Brendon still wore it. “So you kept that bit because it meant you were an idiot.”

Brendon gave him a lopsided smile. “Pretty much, I’d say.”

Ryan finally looked back up and the lopsided smile turned genuine. “By the way, you smell nice, Ross.”

“Fuck off, Urie,” Ryan replied and felt his face get hot. He shouldn’t have put it on. But he’d had to.

Brendon laughed. “I’m sorry, Ryan. I was an asshole to you. You didn’t have to tell me what you did every hour of the day and I got upset with you because I felt like I had always known everything, and now that I didn’t that was somehow abusing my trust.”

“Damn right, you were an asshole!” Ryan replied. “Why’d you keep the Mona Lisa bit in?”

Brendon turned a light pink. “So you’d notice. I wasn’t sure you’d even listen to it, but if you did, I wanted you to know back when I wrote it, it was to you. I told myself it would be fairer to make it clear, rather than keep you guessing.”

“Great job, asshat.”

“Oh come on, I’m not even retaliating! I’ve admitted I was a dick, but Ryan, you left me. You were just… gone. I’m sorry for what I did, for what I said. I can’t undo it now, as much as I’d like to. And my decisions weren’t always the best and neither was my reasoning behind them, but I’m just a person, too.”

Ryan took a deep breath and sighed. When he looked at Brendon’s face again, it wore a sad expression. “I know, Bren. But I just… yes, I left, and I didn’t talk to you until it was too late to. You wouldn't listen to me and it felt like I had to justify everything I did to you, and even when I gave in and tried to do that, you wouldn't have it. So yes, I left. But I didn’t write you a war declaration.”

“It wasn’t meant to be that. But I see why you’re upset.”

“What about…” suddenly, Ryan’s throat felt very dry. “What about the other one. The Ballad?”

“It… came later. It was mostly to get my frustration out because I didn’t know where to go with it. The… the bit about the girl almost didn’t make it in, but you know.” He laughed a dry laugh. “I had that thing about honesty in my head, so I kept it.”

Ryan just nodded.

“It was supposed to be a farewell letter to you. I wanted – I still wanted you to see the error of your ways, so to speak. You went and found yourself that girl and you were so happy with her while you spent time with her, and then it just ended like that and it didn’t even seem to have meant anything to you. I was angry and I was hurt because I felt awful when you met her and she was suddenly a part of your life, from one day to another. And when it was all done, I thought I would be happy, but I just felt worse because… I think I knew that I was being selfish and I wanted to keep you away from what you wanted because it wasn’t what I wanted. And I thought maybe – maybe nothing of the kind mattered to you anyway, you know?”

Ryan blinked. “You – wait. What exactly was your problem?”

Brendon took a deep breath and, staring at his intertwined fingers, answered: “I was jealous. We’d known each other for so long and she could just cut in that easily, despite having known you for like, a day. And she was – she could – she had all of you, so easily, so soon, and you took it all away just as easily.”

Brendon looked back up, nervously searching Ryan’s face. “I know now that I was comparing myself to her in the most nonsensical way, and I saw relations where there were none. It fucked with my head.”

“You were jealous.”

It wasn’t a question and Brendon just nodded. Ryan blinked again. “You idiot,” he said finally and just laughed. Brendon stared at him in confusion. 

“You were _jealous_ of her?! _That’s_ what you gave me all this grief over? Because you thought I could just, what, up and replace you with just any pair of fluttering eyelashes that came along? _That_ is what you refused to talk to me over, the fact that I did a stupid thing for a couple of days, and you thought that would have any impact on our relationship at all?!”

“Back then it felt like the end of the world.”

“Why on earth would a casual – “

Ryan abruptly stopped mid-sentence. He stared at Brendon. “Brendon, why did you start using my perfume?”

“Why did I – uh,” Brendon said, taken completely aback by the sudden change of topic. “Because it smelled nice. You always wore it. It smelled like you.”

“Brendon, I’d worn that perfume maybe two times before you insisted that you never wanted to smell like anything else again.”

“Well, I don’t know, I just liked it!”

“I never wore perfume otherwise.”

“So?!” 

It was evident Brendon had absolutely no idea where Ryan was going with this. Ryan however felt like slowly, the pieces of this puzzle began to fall into place and the more he felt like that, the surer he was that they’d had a massive falling out over absolutely nothing.

“Could it be, that you had a specific scent you associated with me, and from that moment onward you decided you liked it and wanted to keep it around?”

“I don’t know, maybe? What on earth are you getting at, Ross?”

“I’m saying, _Urie_ , that you never gave a shit about the perfume but you gave many a shit about _me_.”

He felt his heartbeat grow faster when he actually said it out loud. For a moment, Brendon looked dumbfounded, then he raised his shoulders almost defensively. “Well, yeah, so what if I did?”

“That’s why I kept using it, because _you_ liked it. I never cared about that perfume more than any other particular scent, but this was what _you_ liked so much, so I grew to like it because of that. Because that was _our_ thing.”

Brendon blinked, wearing an expression as though slowly, very dimly, an idea sprouted in his head. 

“You…”

“I never gave a damn about the Mona Lisa either until you made me the Mona Lisa. You called me that, and suddenly I wanted to be called nothing else, but I also didn’t want anyone to know that. I was afraid they’d notice.”

“Notice what?”

Ryan rolled his eyes. “That I liked you so much, you dumbass. That’s why it got to me so much that you used that one of all the nicknames you gave me. Because we both knew that that one was just between us.”

“I didn’t want anyone else to be able to get the song like you did.”

“And why?” Ryan was holding back a smile

“Because it wasn’t for them! That was for you, it was about you, it was always you!”

Brendon’s ears were bright red. “I didn’t want that to involve anyone else because I – I didn’t want to share that with anyone. I didn’t want to share _you_.”

Now Ryan positively grinned. “And why?” he asked again.

“Because I liked you, okay?! I liked you so much it hurt!”

 _“Exactly!”_ Ryan felt his heart do a triumphant summersault. Brendon stared at him in utter disbelief. “What do you mean, ‘exactly’?! What did that prove?!”

“That you were an idiot who thought I could ever like anyone more than I liked you. You were so caught up in your own head that you never noticed I could never, _ever_ have chosen anyone else over you.”

Brendon just kept on staring at him. Ryan shook his head with a sigh. “I just didn’t get it, either. I never knew you were – I didn’t think I could ever have you.”

He could see the cogs turning in Brendon’s head, pieces falling into place and his eyes grow wide as he finally fully understood what Ryan was saying.

“You liked me back?!”

“I always have, you moron! I didn’t think you would!”

“I didn’t think _you_ would!”

For a moment, everything was silent and then they began to laugh so hard they started crying. 

“Oh my god,” Brendon managed breathlessly, “We were _idiots!_ ”

They grinned at each other with flushed faces. Then Brendon cleared his throat and, fumbling with his hands, gave Ryan a nervous look. “And, um. Did. I mean. Do you… still…?”

Ryan couldn’t help but feel his cheeks heat up. “Yeah,” he managed, “I… yeah.”

Brendon beamed. “Really?!”

“Well yeah you yardstick, why else would I say it!”

Brendon just shot him a look from eyes that could just as well have been made of stars and grabbed him by the front of his shirt, knocked the cap off his head and pressed a kiss to his lips that felt like it might have torn him apart from the inside if it had to wait another second. 

Ryan froze in place for a moment before he regained control of his limbs and wrapped his arms around Brendon, trying to tell him with the hug everything he could not say right now.

When they finally had to break apart to breathe, Brendon grinned so wide that it looked almost unnatural. His eyes were radiant. 

“Hey, wanna hear a secret?” he asked breathlessly. Ryan grinned back. “Sure.”

“I love you, Mona Lisa.”

Ryan flushed bright red. “I love you too, you dork.”

“Way to ruin a moment, Ross.”

“Don’t catch me off guard then, Urie!”

“Stop being so damn easy to tease then!”

“Try and make me!”

They stared into each other’s eyes with challenging expressions and just as they realized how tense the situation was getting in all the right ways, they heard footsteps approaching. Spencer raised his eyebrows. “Well I don’t know what the hell I missed but I’ve been out in the cold for way too long and frankly, I’d like not to freeze to death.”

“Well dang, how accustomed we’ve gotten to the comforts of modern life where you can go inside and not die of frostbite,” Brendon said with rolling eyes and a mischievous grin. Spencer just snorted.

“Yeah, how dare I. You look like you’ve made up.”

“Or out.”

“Or both.”

Once again, Spencer’s eyebrows shot up. “It took two years of radio silence and then you get it all sorted out within half an hour? Jesus, Mary and Joseph you two are _impossible._ ”

“Excuse me, you don’t even know – “

“Oh _I knew_ , Brendon, and it was awful! Jon and I damn near went insane half the time because you wouldn’t get your shit together, but then you had that giant fight, Ryan and Jon agreed on their side of things and we on ours and I thought it was at last over for good, even though it wrecked a good bit of the band at the same time.”

“To be fair, Jon and I did tend to agree on things music-wise that you two didn’t,” Ryan interjected. “So when I said I was leaving, I think he kind of tagged along because he knew he’d be outnumbered and we generally agreed on things, so if we continued to work together it was bound to work out better.”

“Honestly, let’s just not go there right now,” Brendon said, glancing off to the side. “It makes it sound like a split was inevitable no matter what.”

“Musically, it might have been. But I don’t think it has to be on a personal level.”

Spencer nodded. “Possible. But I agree that that’s maybe a bit much to unpack right now, on top of all the other stuff you guys probably finally figured out. Maybe you could fill me in some time so I know what I can make jokes about in the future.”

“Fuck off Spencer,” Ryan laughed and Brendon grinned. “Like we could stop you.”

Spencer grinned back. “You have a point there. So, we all getting back together or what’s the plan?”

Ryan and Brendon shared a look. 

“Let’s not rush it,” Ryan said. “You two finish out the tour, then we’ll see. Even if everything’s rosy right now, if we jump right back into where we left off, it might backfire worse than it did before, and I for one don’t want to risk that.”

Brendon took his hand and squeezed it tight. “Yeah… you’re probably right. I’d rather not have to wait another two years to get on good footing with you again.”

Ryan grinned. “We might wanna work on our communication skills.”

Spencer burst out laughing. “Took you only five years the last time!”

“Well _you_ were no help either!”

Spencer grinned. “Probably not, no.”

“Well hey, we’ve got two? Three? Free days until the next gig?”

“Two. Technically three, but the last day we’ll be on the road, so effectively two.”

Brendon nodded. “Wanna spend two glorious days together?”

“That’s a timeframe I’m very good at,” Ryan said. Brendon poked him in the side. “Don’t you dare.”

“Hey, stop that! I was joking, it was a joke! Brendon, stop!”

Brendon grinned. “Yeah you better be real serious about this! No joking ever again!”

“Does that go both ways?”

“Oh Christ, no, I wouldn’t survive that.”

They all laughed at that, then Spencer looked from one to the other. “So. You two want to be alone? ‘cause I’d tag along but I can also let you have two days to yourselves.”

They shared a look. “I think… if that’s alright with you…”

“Don’t worry!” Spencer said and grabbed a soda from the table with a grin. “I totally get it. Lot of catching up to do after two years.”

Ryan grimaced. “Yeah, yeah, we’re idiots, we get it.”

“Thank god!”

“So, know anywhere that we can both get to easily to meet up?”

Ryan smiled and squeezed Brendon’s hand. “Meet me at the overpass.”


End file.
